


Breaking Free

by lloronadeazulceleste



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Azula's not so quite redemption arc, Gen, The Fire Nation kids bonding, The royals siblings much needed healing, a reunion, she's getting better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-18 00:28:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21518929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lloronadeazulceleste/pseuds/lloronadeazulceleste
Summary: The world has gone on, and there is no place for someone like her.
Relationships: Mai/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Breaking Free

**Author's Note:**

> Azula hurt them, all of them, in ways they couldn’t quite forget. But she’s hurting, too. And Mai once called her a friend and meant it. Before she lost her mind. Before she passed from games to reality. Before war became more than hushed whispers and heroic tales. Before she threatened the one Mai loved more than life itself.

It’s when the spring starts gracing the earth that the Fire Nation ship comes into view. Azula’d know the model everywhere – its sharpness, the arrogance with which it navigates, breaking the waves, the deep cherry color of it. She was there when the first one sailed, standing proud at her father’s side. The Fire Lord then had barely acknowledged her existence, but she knew – as she knew she was reaching her twelfth year in the institution – that the recent Fire Lord was making such an arduous trip for her.

The thought burned like ice.

In those twelve years, she could count with her right hand the number of visits people paid her. The first year, an anonymous source had sent a lawyer for her. “Plead insanity,” he told her, and she was too broken to even understand what it meant. Too lost to even try and consider it. Zuko got rid of her without having to taint his conscience, to fault his honor. Zuko got rid of her, and the mental facility proved the best way to do so. For months she was unconscious, drugged off her mind. For years ghosts haunted her, until she lost her fear and her all.

The world has gone on, and there is no place for someone like her.

Even if by some miracle she were to feel the sun again, even if by some mercy she got to feel the grass under her feet again, she was going to lose it all when the world deemed her too irredeemable. Too dangerous. A cell was waiting for her, no matter what way she’d chose.

And so, she tried death.

Blood ran from her forearm and her wrists, and it coated the floor at her dorm. She had laughed then, loud and crisp like the madwoman they all said she was. She had laughed then, because she was finally free, because there was no other way it could end.

Azula was almost successful.

Just another failure to add to the list.

She was found before she could truly slip. Eyes closed and unconscious. Even as she expected the doctors to give a half-hearted attempt, they proved to be efficient in their work, and she was nursed back to health. Much to her chagrin.

Ever since she opened her eyes, she has been avoiding them. Words don’t leave her mouth, and her eyes –a muted golden – shy from strangers. Failure, failure, failure!

Just another fault. Just another cage. Just another disappointment.

And the ship comes closer.

She hates that she lacks the strength to command the servants – _nurses_ – to close the curtains. Hates that even if she could, they would ignore her as she ignored those like them before. Before the war. Before her rising. Before her fall.

Her lids feel heavy, and she struggles to breathe.

“Is that the Fire Lord’s ship?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer. The words felt weir on her tongue, coarse like sand. It was like that; the princess had learned to love her silence, and would rarely use her voice.

What use was there, if no one ever listened?

_She had been a force to be reckoned with!_

“Princess Azula must be bathed and properly fixed within the hour,” one of them said, not even looking her way.

“Is that the Fire Lord’s ship?” she asked again, forcing the words to flow smoothly, forcing her voice to carry the power it once held.

“There is no time for a proper haircut but see what you can do with her hair.”

“I asked you a question!” she demanded, voice louder now. “That is an empire-class Fire Nation battleship forged with metal took from the Southern Air Temple, made following the style of the late One-Hundred Year War, at the hands of Admiral Zhi Huong! It has the Royal Family crest! _That’s the ship of the Fire Lord_!”

“Very well, princess. You are remembering.”

“I have never forgotten.”

“The Fire Lord will join us in a few hours.”

Knowing her to be right does little to ease her nerves.

“Where is Zuko?” Is the first thing that comes out of Azula’s mouth when she sees the treacherous Fire Lady at the feet of her bed.

Mai does not miss a beat. She stands proud and tall, the picture of a royal consort. Her crown shines just the way Azula’s did, and she wonders, not for the first time, if her decision at the Boiling Rock was born out of hunger for power instead of love. Sometimes she likes to lie to herself, to wrap in her pretty little words. Azula allows them to seduce her, to steal her away to a world where she can be happy in her blindness. She wishes she was stupid and could live in that world for the rest of her days.

But Father did not raise _two_ idiots.

“He is in a meeting with the doctors.”

“What does he care about what those idiots have to say?”

“They almost let a prisoner of the Fire Nation die.” Mai squints, arms crossing over her chest.

“Do tell,” Azula says, rolling her eyes.

The two stare in silence, seizing the other and preparing for battle.

“So… how far are you?” Azula is the first one to attack, and it only serves to point the lack of practice.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Mai frowns, sneering _. How could she possibly know?_ It’s not like she is showing. Not that much, anyway. She’d had managed to pass it as her gaining weight, and nobody questioned her words. The Fire Lady _never_ lied. She hadn’t had reason to. “Have you taken your medicines?” she asks, fully aware of the sharp edge of her words.

If Azula wants a game, then Mai is happy to deliver.

“Don’t play dumb, Mai,” Azula said, rolling her eyes. “ _You’re better than that_. Zuko might be dense – _but I’m a people person_ ,” the former princess smiles, one of her manicured brows arched. “When you first came you couldn’t take your hands off your stomach,” she offers as an explanation, a smug smile on her lips. Mai wants to slap it off her. “You’ve changed.”

“Time does that,” the Fire Lady snaps, crossing her arms over her belly in what she thought as her best ‘you’re boring me to death’ stance.

“This isn’t something that happens with time. Not _that_ way, anyway,” she laughs, the sound like broken bells, and Mai does her best effort not to flinch.

“Mmff,” she manages to pronounce, lips in a thin line.

“You can tell me,” Azula almost purrs, looking at her with a weird look on her eyes. Something Mai couldn’t recognize, but that sent shivers down her spine. “I wouldn’t tell Zuko, you know.”

“How kind of you,” sarcasm was always the sharpest dagger, and that Mai knows pretty well. It never worked with someone as stubborn as Azula, though.

“If I’m going to be an aunt, I’d want to know _when_ ,” she says, her eyes daggers.

Mai was never afraid of knives. “You’re gonna be nothing,” is her response, and she fixes Azula a sharp look.

Azula smirked. This was getting fun. A good challenge was always appreciated.

Mai turned, worrying her nails with her teeth. She needs space. She needs higher walls. She needs – to let it all out, actually. It is way too heavy of a secret to bear with alone. Azula must have seen the shift on her demeanor, for she presses.

“Aren’t you happy? Is it not your job to bring an heir to the world? Carrying a child of fire – a dragon incarnated – is something to be proud of.”

The princess’ eyes are locked on the woman who married her brother, quiet as a cat. She seizes Mai, and she is not happy when she could not place exactly what was on the Fire Lady’s mind. If anything, she seems stressed, but there is nothing to be stressed about – mothers become blind with love, after all. Well, not always (she was a living proof of that) but _usually_. Worrying about assassins were the father’s work.

Poor Zuzu, she thinks, for a second, her lips in a straight line. With everything that’s happened his heir would be such a tempting target.

“And _I’m_ proud!” Mai snaps, and the fire inside of her was never as clear as that day.

There is silence, then. Azula gets back from her reveries of old homes that were long lost, of daggers and of fears. She fixes her eyes on Mai, who is breathing hard, but does not retract. She is past feeling like she needs to apologize to the disgraced princess. It was that strength one of her best qualities, and Azula always remembers.

For that she smiles, pride drowning her features. A strange look to her that could’ve made any weaker person retract. Mai didn’t; she simply huffs, groaning.

“I’m sure you are. But you’re also worried.”

“ _It happened without thinking_ –”

“Now _that’s_ new,” Mai doesn’t ignore the sarcasm her sister-in-law’s words carried, but she is too tired to fight back. The fact that she isn’t backing up is already telling enough of her attitude, of how time changed her. She is not afraid of Azula; and she is not afraid of fighting back. Not anymore. Azula saw the first flames of rebellion burning low years ago, before the Boiling Rock. It seems poetic that Zuko was her strength as much as Mai was his.

“We weren’t looking for it. _Zuko’s_ … there’s _a lot_ going on. _I can’t_ –” she stops, picking harder on her nails. It isn’t enough. It doesn’t serve as consolation. It does nothing to help her nerves, but she needs to try.

“He wouldn’t get mad,” Azula whispers, eyes fixed on Mai’s back.

“I _know_ that.”

“Then _why_ are you worrying?” she asks, her raised eyebrows mocking Mai. Her tone carries an annoyed feeling, cutting like daggers through the wind. The Fire Lady hates it. Hates that she can’t think of an answer as fast as her opponent’s blows. “It can’t possibly be healthy,” there is that sing-song tone again. The same that reminds Mai of darker times. The same that makes her belly sick.

But the woman at her back is barely ashes of the girl she once was, and time had given Mai the power she needs as well. She is no longer afraid, no longer apathic. And Azula is hardly a threat – she barely looks like herself. It is easier to pity her, as much as she’d hate that.

“I know,” Mai says, almost to herself. She sounds softer, and it makes Azula’s heart ache. “But I don’t want to put a heavier burden on his shoulders.”

“You, nor your baby, are a burden to my brother,” Azula whispers. If Mai didn’t know her better, she’d think her voice was threatening. “I thought you were smarter.”

“Shut the fuck up,” she finally blurts out.

“Careful, Majesty. You wouldn’t want any peasant listening to their Fire Lady speaking like a low-born hooker.”

“Shut up.”

“And to think that you’re this worried for carrying the future fire heir… that could be considered treason. I’m not sure how much Zuko has advanced from our ancestors, but since I last checked, the price for treason is death.”

“I’m not worried about having his children!” Mai yells, suddenly whishing she had brought her knives with her.

_“Then why the fuck are you this stiff about the idea?!”_

Mai breathes out and drops her shoulders. The words escapes her mouth in a flush. She has thought them for so long. There is too much to be said. Too much that is troubling her. And she is tired. _Oh, so tired_. “ _He’s got a lot in his head_. Things haven’t been nice. There’s peace, yes, but _there’s something else_. There’s always something else. And I can see how it worries him. I can see how it hurts him. How much he _cares_. How much he gives from himself away. _I can’t_ —I can’t ask much from him when there’s a mess surrounding us.”

Azula sits there, silent as a wall. She dares not take a breath; afraid she’d betray herself. Mai’s mask has fallen, and underneath it lies a scared child in a world bigger than herself. A scared child that her stupid, incompetent, traitor of a brother loves to a fault. A scared child she once had dared consider a friend.

Before, she’d have been glad to have broken Mai’s façade. No thought of conquest and victory came to her, but the memories of a light in her brother’s eyes she had not seen before.

“I don’t think he’d mind,” Azula’s voice comes as a whisper, so strange to her Mai barely hears her.

“And _that’s_ the problem.”

“You’re overthinking,” Azula snorts, rolling her eyes.

“Well, _I’ve had enough time to do it on our way here.”_

Azula snorts once again, and though the Fire Lady couldn’t see, she is sure of the smirk adorning her face. “He’s _Zuko_. He’s a simple man; he’d be the happiest person on Earth, and you wouldn’t even have to ask him anything –he’d gladly give it to you,” Azula says, nonchalant, and yet so heavy Mai’s breath tightens. “ _He loves you_ ,” she goes on, and it almost comes as a caress or an offer of peace.

Mai turns again, and finds a pair of golden eyes fixed on her, a soft look on her pretty face. She’s not sure how on Earth Azula makes love sound like a threat or a slap, but it cuts just as successfully.

“ _Azula_.”

“Mhm?”

“I’m so sorry,” she says, because she means it, and because a blow is always answered with a blow, just in case.

Princesses don’t like to be pitied.

“ _Don’t be_ ,” Azula’s features harden, and Mai witnesses a slash of pain blackening her face. “I’m alive, aren’t I?” she says, sharper this time. Her friend doesn’t back off. She reminds Azula of a mountain.

“ _But you don’t want to_ ,” Mai murmurs, as realization hit her. it knocks the air out of her.

“I don’t. No.”

“ _Azula,–_ ”

“Don’t,” she says, curtly. The former princess closes her eyes, and Mai is not slow at studying her in silence.

The Azula in the bed looks tired. Hollows harden her face, skin a sickening yellow that can only be achieved by restraining from the sun and from food. Her hair falls in an awkward curtain of straight locks, long to her hip and disheveled from the roots. Mai knows Azula’s never been this lost; she remembers her always knowing what she wanted, and what she needed to do to achieve it. She has no plans now, and it is written all over her face.

She has changed. Over the years. So is written on her face. Where there once had been plump, blushed cheeks, there are now high, royal cheekbones. Her face has a lovely shape to it, though– kind of resembling a heart shape. Her plump lips are no longer painted, and her lashes a mere shadow over her eyes, but the fire that always seemed to fill her spirit is still on her features. Blue, purplish shadows tainted her under eyes, but the defiant, ever present look on her betrayed the strength of her soul. Her stubbornness.

Azula hurt them, all of them, in ways they couldn’t quite forget. But she’s hurting, too. And Mai once called her a friend and meant it. Before she lost her mind. Before she passed from games to reality. Before war became more than hushed whispers and heroic tales. Before she threatened the one Mai loved more than life itself.

“How far are you?” Azula asks, after a pause. She’s not looking at her, and Mai is thankful of that.

“Three months.”

“Is it a bender?”

“How could I know that?” Mai rolls her eyes, “it’s not even fully formed yet.”

“ _Of course you must feel him_. Perhaps you’re a little warmer? Maybe you rise with the sun?”

“Well, Zuko _does_ rise with the sun and he’s not _precisely_ silent about it –”

But Azula smiles –actually smiles, and Mai stops.

“What? Aren’t you going to tell me you expect it to be a male, too?”

“Mai, please. _As if_. You know as much as I do that it wouldn’t keep it from being one stubborn, capable individual. That’s from you, actually. Not from Zuko,” she says with a nonchalant gesture of her hands. “And it’s not a compliment.” The Fire Lady’s lips twitches. “I hope they get his heart,” she whispers, then, and it’s too fast, too low, Mai almost thinks she just imagined it. She blinks in surprise, grateful that Azula isn’t looking at her stunned face.

“I do, too,” she finally says, softer. Her love pouring on her words in a way Azula can’t ignore. Can’t help but feel jealous about. And happy. Because if someone deserves to be loved like that, it was her brother. She always knew that, no matter how hard she tried lying to herself. No matter what Father said.

It didn’t keep her from wanting the same, though.

Azula had loved her brother, in her sick twisted way. He just could never love her back. So what? She thinks it doesn’t matter, for as long as there is life she will always care for her brother. And there is no point in denying so.

Mai clears her throat. She offers the former princess a small bow, ready to retreat. She needs to put distance between the memories that cloud her mind, and the woman in the bed looking as if she’d be gone in a blinking. She turns, and she isn’t even far from the door when Azula’s voice stopped her.

“Mai,” she calls, the hesitance clear and uncovered.

“Yes?” Mai asks, daring not to turn and face her.

“Take care of him.”

“I will,” Mai says, and there is no hesitance, but a promise written all over her form. Azula knows this, and nods shortly.

Her old friend leaves, and she watches as the door closes behind her, a small tear betraying her. It surprised her it isn’t from sadness.

 _Little soldier boy comes marching home_ , Azula sings softly, her eyes fixed on the window. A small laugh escaped her mouth, and she covered it with her hand. _Little soldier boy_ was going to have a little soldier boy of his own! And he’d have his heart, and his mother’s endurance. And he’d be powerful, of course. And full of dreams. _And loved, loved, loved_! Azula breathes deep. Little soldier boy _came_ home a changed man. Little soldier boy is free.

She is, too. Now. She realized so as she watches from the window. The cherry trees are blooming, dancing to a never-ending tune only they heard; branches tall and delicate, like the arms of a lover. Flowers of a rich color. Flowers that carried the weight of the past and the caresses of better days. Flowers that are stepped on by two lovers who embrace and laugh and dance, to hell with etiquette and protocol too old and too stiff to still be standing. Flowers that bloom for Azula alone, telling her the stories that she never got to live. She can almost feel their scent.

The sun is setting.

All is good.


End file.
